


Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam

by captaintonystank



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaintonystank/pseuds/captaintonystank
Summary: "Okay," Ryan said gently. “We can do anything you want to do.” He slowly reached out to tentatively curl his fingers around the slim wrist of Madej’s arm. “Tell me about Benjamin Franklin.”Pretty Woman AU, in that Ryan's an escort and Shane just needs a friend to talk about history events with.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam

**Author's Note:**

> Work of fiction, if you are in this fic please exit immediately and leave me to my shame. Title from Killer Queen by Queen.  
>  Also. Sex work is work. thanks x

_ Ritz-Carlton, 8 o’clock, the bar. Wear a suit.  _

This was not the job Ryan thought he’d be doing when he graduated film school, but it paid enough of the bills for him to keep doing it. He hated it, hated hands he did not want on his skin, hated having to smile and charm and _seduce_ when all he wanted to do was go home, curl up on the couch with Jake and watch sports highlights until he passed out. But he had to. If he wanted to see Jake fed and happy, if he wanted his mother to not languish in a care home which wouldn’t even bother to change her _sheets_ _…_

So he tugs on his one good suit, a gift from a very grateful  _ client _ , who had laughed and simpered and insisted he fuck him while wearing it (He’d also paid for the dry cleaning, a fact which Ryan was not complaining about. Clothes were clothes. He’d rather not look too further in how he came by them) _.  _ He gels his hair back, smoothing down the dark curls in a vain attempt to make them lie somewhat flat. 

It didn’t matter really. If the night went like it was supposed too, his hair was the least of his worries.    
  
A spritz of cologne,  _ Axe  _ but serviceable, who gave a shit what he smelled like as long as it wasn’t of cheap liquor and weed. The rich kids liked their whores clean. 

He sidestepped the scattered toys, discoloured and old but loved nonetheless and quietly shuffled by where Jake was sleeping on the fold down bed in the living room in his cramped excuse of an apartment.    
  
Jake deserved better. Jake deserved a proper bed, toys that were not older than him and a race car bed. Jake deserved better than what was in essence a studio walk up in Los Angeles; with a whore for a brother and parents who were almost as good as dead. 

He’d clicked the door closed just as Macie came down the hallway. “Here I thought you forgot about me,” Ryan tried, smiling with a brightness he did not feel. In the bleary light of the dingy hall, the bags underneath Macie’s eyes made her look gaunt.   
  
“You? Probably,” Macie laughed, and for a moment she looked almost happy. “But Jake? Never.” She brushed his arm, looking at him warmly, knowing exactly what he was going to do but never judging. 

Macie was lovely. Macie was one of those people who were undeniably strong but kept having every inch of their strength tested every single day; and yet she smiled and babysat Jake while Ryan was away, gave his baby brother treats and hugs and even fed Ryan once in awhile. Her life was probably not going to change, with her stuck working at a diner that stole her tips every other night and her leech of a father eating up whatever she earned. 

In another life, Macie could probably have been happy. He probably would have been happy with her. But not this life, Ryan knew as he watched her creep into his house for the night, looking after Jake until he could limp or crawl his way back home. This life had not been kind to them. 

* * *

There was a limo waiting for him about three blocks from his building; far enough away that no one would be suspicious of why Ryan Bergara, unemployed actor by day and prostitute by night, was getting into an obviously expensive car with a gleaming paint job.

Or maybe they wouldn’t. Everyone knew (or at least  _ assumed _ ) what Ryan did with his nights. 

_At least_ , he thought as he leaned back in his seat, watching the lights go by, _at least this was a client I know_ _._ At least, he was well aware, he would not have to pretend to be genuinely interested in the person—he and Sara Rubin had a good deal between them. Sara treated him like a business transaction, and he preferred it that way. He got her off, she made no attempts to try to get _him_ off; she went home sated in her knowledge that her mother’s credit card had paid for an _escort_ —as she termed it, _h_ _im_ —and he received a fat paycheck from the agency. All in all, not a bad deal. 

He was mildly looking forward to it. Sara was funny, and surprisingly understanding of what he was doing for a white girl raised in privilege. In terms of actually enjoying what he did, Sara was one of the few people he did not have to pretend to be attracted to, at least. 

Mike gave him barely a cursory nod when they reached the gleaming entrance of the Ritz, and Ryan dragged himself out of the suede seats of the limo, tugged his suit so it sat on his shoulders that emphasized his biceps further. His mask slipped on, even though it was a much thinner one. He never really had to pretend for Sara much. Just make her feel like she was disappointing her mom and he was golden. 

* * *

Sara looked gorgeous. 

“You look gorgeous,” Ryan told her, taking in the slinky black dress and strappy heels she had on. She looked every inch the media conglomerate heiress she was. Her lips shined with lip gloss and her curls were done up in a glamorous updo. “What’s the occasion?”

She ignored him, still sipping on her cocktail. Her eyes roved over him, making no secret of how she was sizing him up. Ryan leaned back against the bar and let her look. He worked hard to maintain a certain body type, and almost all his customers appreciated it. Just because he hated this work did not mean he did not work hard at it. 

Heh.  _ Hard. _ __

Sara reached out to brush away some imaginary lint on Ryan’s shoulder. “Would you be angry if I said I wasn’t your client today?” 

Ryan kept smiling despite the sudden swoop at the pit of his stomach. “I don’t-”

“I know it’s not company policy but trust me,” Sara said sweetly. “It’s a friend’s birthday and we...well, we haven’t been on the best of terms lately-”

“And you thought, what? An escort would make him feel better about you?” Ryan interrupted in disbelief. “Sara, what the actual fuck?”

He was being rude, he could tell, and if his boss at the agency knew he was speaking like this to _Sara Rubin_ he’d be fired immediately. But he was not about to be happy about being treated like an object being passed around. Without his _consent_. And _pay_. 

“Ryan, listen. I’m sorry for springing this on you,” Sara said, and she looked so genuinely sorry that Ryan felt compelled to hear her out. “It’s sort of like, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But, if you could just. Keep the guy company for a bit.”

“Sara, I don’t know, these sort of things need to be cleared-”

“I’ll pay you double your rate. In cash.

_ Fuck. _ __

“I’ll pay the agency fees, of course, but you can have the extra pay. It’s really important to me, Ryan.”

This was wrong, Ryan knew that. He should walk away now, report Sara to the agency and hope that she got blacklisted for violating policy. But at most, he knew, Sara would just be reassigned to someone more willing to cater to whatever she wanted. The Rubins were too lucrative of a client to let go. 

The Rubins paid well. 

This Rubin was going to pay him double.  _ In cash. _ Extra cash would mean he would not have to choose between rent and food. Jake or mom. 

Ryan sighed. And folded like the stack of desperate cards he was. 

Sara beamed at him. Now all he could do was hope her friend did not turn out to be an actual psychopath.

* * *

Sara’s friend was not a psychopath. He was however - 

“Wow man, are you a Sasquatch?” Ryan blurted, staring up at the man. He did not look too pleased by that, it seemed, but he continued to glower at Sara undeterred. 

Sara seemed unperturbed. “Shane, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Shane Madej. He does those puppet theatre shorts on-,”

“On Saturday Night Live!” Ryan completed. He did not get much time to see any of the shows, what with this job and the shitty extra work he got on some sets, but he’d seen the Youtube clips. The views on those particular shorts, most famously the one of a time traveling blue puppet that was very much a direct riff on Doctor Who, were  _ insane.  _

Madej did not seem to be pleased by the recognition either. If anything, his lips thinned further. He was  _ unfairly _ tall, gangly but a bit soft around the middle, a very nice nose on a face that did not look like it should work but it definitely did. He was wearing a rumpled suit with yellow aviator shades tucked into the neck. He looked like a man who had thrown a party and uninvited himself immediately afterwards. 

Ryan had not gotten this far in this line of work without not learning to read people. Whatever storm was brewing between Sara and Shane, he wanted none of it. Rich people were weird. He edged past both of them and walked to the floor to ceiling window of the expensive suite, and tried not to listen to the hushed, angry whispering going on behind him. 

He checked his watch. Sara had booked him for the night, but it had already been an hour and a half of this. Usually, he’d be leaving as soon as Sara was done with him, but tonight it looked like he might be here a while. He sighed. Macie had Jake for as long as he was out, bless her, but he wished he was already on the way out instead of not knowing what the fuck his deal was for the night. 

He was staring unseeingly at the blur of car headlights that glistened on the glossy windows when the sound of the door slamming made him jerk into attention. 

Sara was gone. Madej was still hovering near the doorway, looking very much like he’d rather not be here. 

Made two of them, at least. 

“Sit,” Madej said, not unkindly, but still looking uncomfortable. “Please,” he added, “I meant to say please.” 

Ryan, with a patience born of handling white men used to being listened to, sat gingerly on the arm of a velveteen monstrosity of an armchair right by the windows. He watched as Madej crossed to the minibar and poured out two generous fingers of scotch into two wine glasses. 

Ryan did not drink on the job. Madej did not offer him any either way. He watched him knockback one glass before he turned to him, fingers gripping the stem of the other glass so tightly Ryan was worried it would break. 

Ryan was on the clock. A clock with a fixed fee, so if Ryan was supposed to be sucking cock by now, he needed the go ahead. He cleared his throat. Madej jumped. 

“So what do you-”

“Did you know Ben Franklin might have been in a sex cult?” 

“-to do-wait.  _ What _ ?” 

Madej went a rather fletching shade of red at his outburst. Ryan stared. He was nice looking, Madej, if a little unconventional. His features worked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Madej said, as if he had not been the one to bring up the sex life of a Founding Father. “I just, I don’t know what to do with this.”

Internally, Ryan groaned. It was always a chore, men who hemmed and hawed around this part of the transaction. Usually, he would start taking his clothes off and it’d solve that problem. But Madej was beginning to look more and more like a spooked horse, and Ryan didn’t actually want him to bolt. Sara might decline to pay him then. 

“No, it’s fine,” Ryan said gently. “We can do anything you want to do.” He slowly reached out to tentatively curl his fingers around the slim wrist of Madej’s arm. “Tell me about Benjamin Franklin.” 

Sometimes, some men hired Ryan to be someone to talk to. They made him minutely sad, because while he would usually have sex with most of them at the end of the night, sometimes, it felt like they did not have  _ anyone  _ to talk to. And they could only talk to Ryan by paying him. 

Maybe Madej was one of those men. He did seem awfully lonely. Ryan could do this. And when Madej would be done warming up to him, Ryan was going to suck his brains out, by which point he would have hopefully fulfilled his obligations and could get paid, then get home to Jake. Doable. 

“Oh!” Madej looked genuinely surprised at Ryan’s sudden interest, and his eyes seemed to be focused on where Ryan was touching him. He let Ryan pull him into the seat of the sofa next to him. “Well. Um. What do you k-know about him?”

“Just that he helped Nick Cage find treasure?”

Madej made a face but burst out laughing anyway. Ryan smiled; tension in the room dissipating. Maybe he could work with this. 

Madej looked nice when he laughed. 

Ryan drew circles on the thin skin of Madej’s wrist as he talked at length about Franklin and his purported sexitivies at some old Englishman’s goth-chic castle, and slowly inched closer. There usually was an art to this, and Ryan had it mastered. Some men needed to talk about themselves to get in the mood, apparently for Madej it was sex facts about Ben Franklin. 

Eh, it took all sorts. 

Ryan had fully tilted his head and was straight up offering his lips to the guy when Madej finished up his story and immediately reared back. Ryan actually jumped at the suddenness of it. 

“I-uh. I...thank you f-for listening,” Madej said, sounding very different from the confident history tutor vibe he had been giving Ryan for the entirety of his spiel, “but um...I don’t really want-”

Shit. Ryan had really misread that, hadn’t he. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He said. “It’s okay. I liked the history lesson.”

Madej nodded. 

“I could...go?” Ryan attempted. Evidently Madej either did not swing Ryan’s way or swing any man’s way, and Sara had just poured a lot of money into Ryan’s bank account for nothing. Hey, at least Ryan didn’t even have to take his clothes off for it. 

“C-can we talk more?” Madej stammered. “I really don’t have f-anyone to listen to these? If you want to, of course.”

Ryan smiled again. He would have liked to go home, but his time had been paid for, and this was a lot more interesting than having to suck mediocre dick. This way, he might actually learn something useful. “If you have any that don’t involve sex cults, sure.”

Madej beamed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Update soon, leave a kudos, comments or anything, they are like air to me. Happy Holidays x


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